I’m letting my hair grow out

It’s a messy mullet – tossed at sea-

Caught in a storm….

And isn’t that exactely what this summer has been?

I won’t go into details

But I have been severely stretched-

So many significant changes.

But with a tiny nod to myself –

I seem to be ok.

Having made strides in the recent year-

Knowing that it’s my job

To be there for myself- tracking and loving

This whole complex deal called my life.

The grace of acceptance, not easily won

But so noticable when it has kicked in.

It’s been a week since Jean Pierre and I

Drove out the Lamar valley- thrilled by

Huge herds of buffalo

Some rolling in the dust.. In Yellowstone

The wonders of the earth unfold

Before our awaking spirit,

Each wonder – an ancient key.

Muddy waves sloshing in the dragons breath cave

An earth pluse- a remembering

That the earth is alive.

Jean Pierre started calling me Nowmeee

The grandmother- praying to see his small boat

Come into sight – on the now empty beach

“Where is he?”

We risk our heart – everyday

That’s just how it is here

And we woudn’t have it any other way.

As I pack my duffle

The call of the open road awaits

Jean Pierre ( 16) and I ( 74)

Leave early tomorrow for the Wind Rivers.

He’s a fisherman

And we are taking an infatable boat

To paddle out onto Colter Bay

And Yellowstone lake at sunset

My adventures of late

Have been interpersonal

And it’s just time for a little less of that.

that are out there

Aging is an island ( adventure?)

But we didn’t pack much

For our extended stay and there is

The surprised feeling of being unprepared…..

Like how did we get here?

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My neighbor and I

Sat at the beach as the sun went down…

That day , they’d been told that her husband

That he’d had two strokes

Which would explain his memory loss.

” Remember our wedding vows” she said

“In sickness and in health”

And it’s true we do motor on

With our injured partner beside us

Answering the same question for the seventh time.

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I vowed at my wedding to be true to myself

( Walt Whitman’s Song to Myself)

Somehow I knew even then,

That life was a big ask and it is.

When Ann Sullivan finally gets through

To Helen Keller, signing water

While putting her hand in the water

Signing water, again and again

And Helen’s incredible joy

When she understands

Essentially that there is a place for her….

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My friends son is struggling badly

His sense of place is missing

And she/he needs a miracle.

An opening in what feels closed

A sense of self to emerge in him.

This film came to mind and if you watch it

The black and white version is really wild….

Breakthroughs exit, let’s not give up

Universal consciousness is on the way- stay.

While sitting in tea cup meditation- early

Soft grey clouds at last

No more fire.

I observed this morning’s spirit animal

It was a Willow, walking barefoot with coffee

Wearing white like the cosmos flower.

Nature provides wonder in her many forms

The Willow form like the deer yesterday

Directs my gaze

And I remember how- she only wanted to nurse

Food was not to her liking-

She just wanted breast milk.

I hope to this day that I didn’t break her heart

When we had to stop…

Maybe it was my heart that was broken.

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The Alabaster Sculpture of Willow

Was carved by our Thorn Lake neighbor,

Michael Reardon, many years ago.

No turmoil in retreat…

Tenderness in these tight places.

We’ve been running a refugee encampment

Neighbors displaced from the fire

And their cats

And a few traveler’s too.

Food dishes piled high.

The dishwasher a constant.

Long ago I made a painting

Called The Happy Kitchen where

Every surface has a tipped bowl

or a broken egg, a delightful tribute to chaos

Babies and dogs under foot.

And there I sit,

Over in the corner by myself

At my own, neatly organized table.

““““““““““““““““`

In the coming times

It might not hurt for each of us to increase our awareness

of how we grapple with chaos because…..

More is coming.

A little boy at the water’s edge held

Out for me to see- his small snake

“Oh you frightened me” I said ,

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Life is a series of frights

Each one personal….

Slowly, I am learning to admit ( to myself)

Those things heavy on my heart

So that spirit might help recirculate them

Get the spirit flow moving again.

Acceptance is sometimes not easily won

But it’s the only winning there is.

Little snake held in the boys hands

The wonder of it.

In the last days of Crystal Beach

The rides cost 5 cents

So we rode continuously on the wildest one

Clack clack clack up to the top

Only to free fall to our fate

It feels like this now- this wild ride we are on.

But the kid in me remembers

The roller Coaster’s absolute joy and

The awesome terror that we might die.

All for the cost of 5 cents.

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Thank you Joe Biden for steering

The frayed ship called America.

I am personally thankful to think of you resting

For the rest of your life.

Thank you for your service.

I am the shaman of the river house

As I look to the East – first light

My breath slows as I watch

The deer enter the field…..

Hot tea in my hands.

Can we sort ourselves from the collective?

From the other, so that we might

Come to know our own sweet energy- apart.

Only in this way- can I be an empty canvas

For spirit- SHE.